Leaning against the wall, Ash looked around at the people milling around the gallery. Faysal had been right; Masako’s skills as an aspiring artist showed in every framed piece. Ash even saw a few that struck his interest, though there was little chance he’d ever admit it. He could see her eventually becoming a big name one day if she kept up her practice. The comments he overheard from the guests walking past seemed to confirm his thoughts.

The party was well underway. Masako had already shooed him away with an ill-tempered scowl, and his peers rotated around to check in with him as more patrons flooded into the brightly lit room. Ash yawned, subtly covering his mouth with his sleeve as he turned to look up at a painting near him. The small group cloistered under it whispered their guesses that the portrayal of her school’s major thoroughfare had some deeper meaning about adolescence.

She included food in a locker… hn. I wonder if anything will be open after this…

Ash considered finding the appetizer table to stave off the boredom. He hadn’t expected anything noteworthy to happen, especially with the sizable security detail in place for the event. Naoki and Kei had both told him he’d mainly act as the point person for them, but with everyone in place he didn’t have the distraction of the guards speaking to him to keep his attention. Circling the entire party, his eyes bouncing from guest to guest, he found Masako surrounded by her family.

He returned to his resting spot. Leaning against a pillar, he checked his phone. They were already over an hour into the debut, with Masako having spoken briefly about her beginning as an artist to gentle applause. A gaping hole in the attendees glared at him as he watched every person enter and exit, following their movements in the crowd. As another couple entered, he frowned.

Where’s Zenz-san?

It wasn’t like he could miss Faysal. Who could, when the man would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the patrons in the room? Considering the way the blond had asked about him coming, it didn’t seem like he’d just not show. He didn’t strike Ash as the type of person to show up late to an event, either.

Ash looped his hands behind his head to pull his ponytail tighter. He didn’t have any reason to be worried about it, not when there was a crowded gallery of bodies to watch over and a teenager relying on him to ensure her safety. He shouldn’t worry about it, even if the man bought him dinner out of the kindness of his heart and spoke to him with that gentle voice that made heat rush through his body.

And especially not when said man was clearly out of his mind.

Ash spent untold amounts of time lying in bed, mind racing over his response to having a weapon turned on him. Faysal hadn’t looked worried, seeming even amused by it. He hadn’t commented on it at the time - he hadn’t had the head space to give it much consideration - but couldn’t stop thinking about the faint bit of pink that warmed the blond’s skin and the strange look in his bright eyes.

His thoughts raced at night anyway, but it irked him that he couldn’t seem to stop that image from haunting him. He shook his head to clear it, eyes closed.

“Who is that?” a patron whispered, “I know her father owns a major company, but I wouldn’t expect a foreigner to show up…”

“I don’t know,” her conversation partner responded, voice disapproving, “but he’s really handsome. Do you think he’s friendly?”

Snapping his eyes open, Ash peered over to see who they were gossiping about.

Dressed in a finely pressed three-piece dark gray suit and with blond hair brushed smooth, Faysal stood at the entrance. Ash straightened up, hyperaware of how his dress uniform fit and the tightness around his shoulders, when Faysal’s eyes turned in his direction. He swallowed, a tingling heat creeping its way up his chest and throat. The neck of his shirt felt far too tight when their eyes met. His head subtly tilting to the side, the corner of Faysal’s mouth curved upward.

Ash made an annoyed noise. Curling his fingers, he smoothed out the frustration he was certain showed on his face. One of Faysal’s brows arched before he turned in the other direction, disappearing into the gathering. Following the other man’s movements with his eyes, Ash shook his head. Tap, tap, tap- He twitched, realizing he’d started tapping his foot on the tile floor, when the uncomfortable itch to follow nearly overwhelmed him.

Drawn into the chattering crowd, he felt thankful for the few inches of height his boots gave him. Ash huffed impatiently as he weaved through to keep track of the lone blond in the sea of dark-haired patrons. A bright flash went off, lighting up the entrance of the gallery hall. What the fuck-

Whipping around to stare toward the light, Ash scowled. Signs throughout the room read No photography allowed, and he’d blessedly not had to stop anyone throughout the debut. Winding his way through the gathering, he popped out behind the cause as another flash went off. The individual’s high end suit showed signs of wear on the cuffs, the camera he held an older make and model.

“Hey-” Ash put a hand out, catching the strap of the device with his fingers. The man gave him an annoyed look; his eyes turned sharply toward him. “No photographs. Gallery rules.”

Ash felt a hand grab his elbow and pull him back. Masako’s irritated face met him as he turned, her chin tilted up. She turned a bright smile on the staring man. “Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him, “I give you permission to take all the pictures you want. Make good use of them, ok?”

Masako waved him off. She turned a scowl on Ash once he’d moved away.

“Suzuki-san,” Ash said, exasperated. Pulling on the hem of his jacket, he glanced back in the direction he’d been heading. Heat rushed to his face as he saw numerous stares around them. The flush deepened when, on a scan of the crowd, he found Faysal looking his direction, his face unreadable from where he stood. “I can’t do my job if you undermine me.”

“It’s a picture, not a bomb,” she hissed. She pulled him through the crowd; she only stopped once they were close to where he’d originally stood. Masako let go to rest her hands on her hips with an impatient exhale. “Would you relax? I want to enjoy my night, not be hovered over. Stay here!”

Ash made an affirming noise. He waited until Masako left him alone to peer around; to his dismay, he’d lost track of where Faysal had gone. His mind wandered as he returned to people watching. Embarrassment still buzzed under his skin; it was baffling to experience it when he normally felt completely at ease when out in the field. Knowing that the other man had been watching, feeling so many sets of eyes on him, Ash couldn’t help questioning what it must have looked like from their - his - perspective.

Looking for the source of his unease, he frowned. He didn’t like how much it worried him.

A hand came down on his shoulder. Ash twitched, resisting the instinct to grab and throw them to the ground as he turned his head, a snarky comment waiting on the tip of his tongue. His eyes widened; the aborted words left his mouth hanging open. The blond stood behind him with the same gentle smile that set off warm flutters in his stomach.

“Hi,” Faysal said, “I wondered if you were hiding over here.”

Barely resisting the urge to squeeze it, Ash grabbed his hand and brushed it off. The corner of his mouth twitched. Uncertain whether he should be appalled or impressed that Faysal hadn’t learned anything from their last meeting, he frowned. “Not a fast learner, are you?”

“It would seem not.” Faysal laughed, but Ash didn’t miss the subtle downward motion of his eyes toward his holster. His laughter abating, the blond nodded toward the entrance. “Masa-chan didn’t seem happy with you.”

Ash turned and walked along the wall, unsurprised when Faysal’s heavier footsteps followed. Keeping his face passive, he nodded in greeting when he caught the eye of the handful of patrons watching them. “Of course she isn’t,” he murmured, masking a snicker behind a gloved hand when at least one of them shot a shamed look their direction, “I’m here to protect her. I wouldn’t be happy either in her shoes.”

“I don’t know about that… I feel safer knowing you’re here.”

Ash’s steps faltered. He turned to look at him. Faysal stopped following several steps back. The heat that’d crept up his neck grew stronger with the searching gaze raking over him. Faysal looked him up and down. Eyes pausing over his gloves and the metal epaulet over his left shoulder, they settled when they were eye to eye again, blue meeting amber.